


I Am a Feeling and I Will Never End

by femvimes



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9799634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femvimes/pseuds/femvimes
Summary: "She awoke. It was an unfamiliar sensation, the waking, though she felt as though she had done it before."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Femslash February and TAZ Lady Week! This was going to be longer, but I just wanted to get it done. I left it with a bit of a sequel hook, but I don't know if I'll be continuing the story.

She awoke.

It was an unfamiliar sensation, the waking, though she felt as though she had done it before. The wind rustled her branches, and that too was familiar yet unnatural. She felt trapped, somehow, even though water flowed freely through her roots and her bark and was open to the sky.

Roots? Branches? Bark? No, that wasn’t right.

She woke up again, this time for real.

_Who am I?_ she thought in a panic. It was as if two people had thought it at once.

_You’re Hurley._ She knew that to be a fact.

_Yes. And you’re Sloane._ This, she also knew.

_Well, at least we’ve got that part covered._

There was silence for a while as she digested this. And then:

_Sloane? Why are we a tree?_

_I think I did something, Hurley. To us…to you._ The thought was one of shame. But it was countered by assurance.

_No, no, it’s coming back to me now. I know you did it to save us. And look at us now! We’re still alive, right?_

_I don’t know if we are, Hurley. But I suppose we are together._

She thought this, and was content. The breeze rustled her petals and sent the water lapping against her roots. Then she thought some more, and gradually became confused.

_Sloane, there’s a lot I don’t remember. I remember you turning us into this tree, and the sash._ She paused while she struggled to piece it all together. _I remember a race and—and—_

_There were three guys._

_Magnus, Merle, and Taako,_ she thought promptly. _They helped me get the sash from you._

_Why, Hurley?_

_I don’t know, Sloane. They just showed up._

It was important that she repeated her names. It helped keep herselves apart from her tree self. There was no clear distinction between Sloane, Hurley, and the tree; they simply melted into each other like a “how many dogs are there” puzzle. She knew that she was two people inside of a tree, yes, but she didn’t know where one part ended and another began.

_You were a cop._

_Yeah. And you were a thief._

_A_ good _thief._

She laughed, and sent her branches shaking.

_But we_ _were better at racing._

_Especially together._

She remembered racing. Moving faster than anything else in the world, hands gripping the wheel, beating orcs off the roof, laughing, winning—winning for the first time. The wind blowing in her petals was almost like wind and dust in her hair. Almost.

_Why are we able to think now, Sloane? Why couldn’t we before? There was a time when we were just a tree._

_Are we two women dreaming that we’re a tree, or a tree dreaming that we’re two women?_

_What the fuck, Sloane?_

_Sorry._

_Maybe something woke us up. Or maybe we were woken up for a reason._

That made her really think. And somehow, gradually, she was thinking together and thinking at the same time and feeling the same thing and moving and _ALIVE_ —

The tree jerked out of her pool on two strong legs. The displaced water splashed over the edge, but the tree scooped up two items at her roots before they floated away. It was two masks: one was a raven, and one was a ram. The tree held them in her two biggest branches.

“This is us,” she said out loud. “Wait. I—we—can speak?”

_It’s magic shit, yo._

_That was one powerful fucking sash._

“How can we be talking with no vocal cords? Oh, right. Magic. That’s still a shitty explanation.”

She nestled the masks in her uppermost branches. Every time she moved, there was a shower of pink petals.

_We’re going to be easy to track._

_I don’t think anyone will be tracking us. We need to find Captain Captain Bane._

“The militia station is this way. I think I should get the hang of walking first, though.”

She took a few hesitant steps forward, followed by a cloak of falling petals.

“That’s going to get old real fast.”

It took a while to work out the center of balance. She was used to having two different ones, and now combined…it was a bit of a mess. She also didn’t bend very well, so if she was going to fall she fell vertically. If any citizens of Goldcliff were around, they saw a tree stumbling through the streets, muttering curse words to itself. As a city that hosted battlewagon races and had recently seen their bank being taken over by vines, it wasn’t that unusual of a sight. The tree refused to go to the militia station without getting the hang of walking. After several hours, she sat down (with some difficulty) on the steps of the Goldcliff library. It felt as though all her petals had been shaken off, but her branches were still full.

_What should we call ourselves? Seeing as we’re sort of a hive mind controlling one body._

_Shurley?_

_Shurley you can’t be serious._

_Ha, ha. Okay then, how about this: Cherry Bomb. Get it? Cause we’re a cherry tree?_

_Cherry Racer?_

_Hmm, no._

_I’ve got it! Battletree._

_Battletree, like battlewagon? Are we planning on racing again?_

_Why not? If we can move and sit, we can race. We’ve got no idea how long this is going to last. But if we’re alive, I want to race._

There was silence for a while. Then she thought,

_No, you’re right. I want to race too. I’m not set on Battletree, though._

_We can workshop it,_ she agreed, but she didn’t care about their name. They were together, and they were going to race. Everything else was just getting to that point.

Battletree stood up and almost fell over. She was a little top heavy, and unused to her center of gravity. She wasn’t sure how she would get up if she fell over, but didn’t want to find out. The militia station was close, though. With her new stride length, it would take only a few seconds to get over there.

The dwarf working at the front desk of the militia station was surprised, to say the least, to see a tree trying to get through the door. After dislodging a blizzard’s worth of petals, the tree forced its way through. It was a good thing the ceiling was so high, but even then the tree’s top branches strained against the plaster.

“Hi, Dave,” the tree said. “I know this is weird, but I’m Hurley. Sort of.”

“You’re shitting me,” Dave said.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just as weirded out as you are. But I need to find Captain Captain Bane. I think he can help.” Battletree looked around. “I don’t know if I can get up to his office, can you get him down here?”

“Captain…Captain Bane?” Dave repeated. “Who is that? We don’t have a captain at this station. You—if you really are Hurley—were the highest-ranking officer.”

_Oh, shit_.

_No kidding. How could they have forgotten the captain?_

Battletree folded a few of her branches like arms. “Look, Dave, I really am Hurley. I can prove it. At your last birthday party, you got drunk from quaffing too much beer, took of your pants, and danced on top of the bar singing ‘I’m a sexy monkey’. Then you went home with Corporal Anderson.”

Dave waved his hands quickly. “Hey, keep it down with the Corporal Anderson talk! He didn’t want people finding out.” Dave stopped. “Wait, only Lieutenant Hurley knew that. She picked me up from Anderson’s house the morning after.”

“Go on,” Battletree said dryly.

 “So…wow, I guess you really are Hurley.”

“And Sloane,” Battletree added. Dave pushed his chair a few inches away from the tree.

“You mean the Raven? You’re her too?”

Battletree would have rolled her eyes if she had anything to see with besides knots. “Yes. Our gay love keeps us alive. Look, if I’m supposed to be dead, and you’ve never heard of—well, you don’t have a captain—then who’s in charge?”

Dave shrugged uncomfortably. “The city just kind of lets us keep running. We still go on patrol. The other lieutenants write up a schedule and make sure we get paid. Nobody wanted to take charge after you left.”

 “Okay, that’s just ridiculous,” Battletree snapped. “Seriously? Even Lieutenant Shrike would be a better leader than the city council. You let the mayor tell you what to do?”

“He is in charge of the city…” Dave said sheepishly into his beard.

 “Wrong!” Battletree said. “He’s not in charge of us. Checks and freaking balances, Dave. Right, if you idiots haven’t figured out how to run things without me, then I guess a tree is going to have to be in charge.”

_Are you okay with this?_

_Hey, I was a criminal and even I understand the militia needs a leader._

_We still need to figure out what happened to Captain Bane. This is really weird._

It had taken very little time for Battletree to get the militia back in shape. They had been spinning their wheels for, it turned out, almost a month. Battletree hadn’t realized that she’d been asleep for so long. She worked several days and nights in a row trying to get paperwork sorted out before she realized that she hadn’t slept. She was tired, but sleep didn’t seem to be the solution.

“Lieutenant, you know you haven’t been outside in a while,” pointed out Corporal Hes.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Battletree distractedly. “I’ve got to finish signing off on these reports.”

She could get other people to write for her, but the signing had to be done herself. Since she couldn’t actually hold a pen, each signature took several minutes to complete.

“No, I mean, you need to go outside,” said the corporal. “You’re a tree. You haven’t gotten any sun. You haven’t noticed that I’ve been watering your roots, but you need to go plant yourself in some good good nutritious soil and soak up that chloroform.”

“I think you mean chlorophyll,” said Battletree. “But I see your point.”

_How did we miss someone watering our roots for us?_

_Well, dear, with your dedication to the job and my ability to hyperfocus, I think we lost track of time._

“Okay, Corporal,” she said. She tossed the report aside. “What time is it, noon? Perfect. I’ll get a few hours of sun and be back in here in time for the night shift.”

There weren’t a lot of dirt patches within the city, and Battletree didn’t want to go back to the pool where she had woken up. It was going to have to be out in the desert somewhere. Maybe close to the river.

She was halfway out of the city when she realized that somebody was following her. A walking tree was rather conspicuous. She wasn’t worried at all, she could probably take on whoever it was.

“Hey, whaddup?” she called into the shadows. “I’m a cop and a thief, so sneaking up on me isn’t the greatest idea ever.”

Two unlikely people emerged from the alley behind her. One was a beefy orc woman, and the other was a spry-looking dragonborn woman. Even more unlikely—surprising, even—was the fact that they wore bracelets identical to the one that Captain Captain Bane used to wear.

“Are you the one who’s been asking around about kkkzzzzzshhhhhh?” the orc woman asked. The end of her sentence fizzled into something unintelligible.

"I’m sorry, what was the last part?” Battletree asked. This situation hadn’t been making her nervous, but the unknown scared her. “Did you know Captain Captain Bane?”

The two women looked at each other, and the orc woman swore.

“Great. Not only do we have a sentient tree walking around and leading a militia, she also escaped the kkkzzzssshhhhh. Merle, Taako, and Magnus didn’t bother filling out a report, did they? This sounds like an effect that the kkkkkzzzshhhh would have.”

“Did you say Merle, Taako, and Magnus?” Battletree asked excitedly. “I know them! Or, at least, part of me does. Why do you keep doing that with your mouths?”

“Magic,” said the dragonborn. “How did you become a tree?”

“The Gaia Sash,” said Battletree. “I used to be two women but—“

“Fuck fuck fucking fuck!” the orc woman interrupted her. She threw her hands into the air and turned to the dragonborn. “She knows about the fucking sash still? What the actual hell is going on?”

The dragonborn reached up and put her hands on the orc’s shoulders. “Babe, why don’t we just ask the tree?”

“Yes, please,” said Battletree, annoyed. “You’re being kinda rude.”

“Sorry.” The orc dragged her hands down her face. “This isn’t supposed to happen.”

Battletree laughed. “Yeah, fucking tell me about it.”

“So how do you know those three dumbshits?”

Battletree drew herself up as if taking a breath, though technically she did the opposite of breathing. It was going to feel good to tell this story. Nobody in the militia would understand.

“I used to be two people, Lieutenant Hurley of the militia and Sloane, a thief. They raced together. They…they loved each other. But Sloane got ahold of the Gaia Sash and it took her over. Hurley asked the three boys to help her, and they beat Sloane in a race. It convinced Sloane that there were things more powerful than the Gaia Sash, but it was too late. Through her actions, she had poisoned Hurley. With her last power, she turned herself and Hurley into a tree. Into me.”

When Battletree finished, she realized that the dragonborn was sniffling. She put a claw up to her eyes to wipe away tears.

“That’s beautiful,” she said. “Your love lived on through a tree.”

“That actually is sweet,” the orc admitted. Her arms were folded. “But it doesn’t answer the question of how you’re alive and how you know who kkkzzzzshhhh is.”

“Are you trying to say Captain Captain Bane when your words go all fuzzy like that?” Battletree asked. The two women looked frustrated.

“Yes, kkkkkkzzshshshsh! Ugh, never mind. Can we call him ‘the captain’? Did you understand that?”

“Yeah, you said ‘the captain’. Nobody remembers him. But you know who he is. And you don’t want me talking about him, is that right?”

“It’s not that we don’t want you to,” said the dragonborn. “It’s just, like, literally impossible that you _can_.” She looked at the orc. “Do you think it’s because she’s a tree? Does the kkkzsshsh work on trees?”

“I don’t know why it would,” said the orc. “You haven’t been on our radar until a few days ago,” she said. “When did you come alive?”

“A few days ago.”

“Ah.”

“What happened a few days ago that would have woken them up?” the dragonborn wondered. She and the orc exchanged another glance, and they both nodded.

“Well, you…two…have been very helpful,” said the dragonborn. “We will definitely be in contact, but for now don’t mention the captain to anyone.”

“You keep on doing what you’re doing,” said the orc, and punched Battletree’s trunk. “Goldcliff militia still needs a leader, and it’s kind of our fault that you don’t have one. If it’s anyone it might as well be a tree.”

The two women turned to go back down the alleyway, but Battletree called,

“Hey! Say hi to Merle, Magnus, and Taako for me, won’t you? They were good racing buddies. They deserve to know about this.”

“Will do!” the dragonborn shouted. “They’re doing a job, but we’ll let them know when they get back. Don’t blame us if they come down here and pester you!”

There was obviously something going on here, something that the three boys had been involved in as well as Captain Bane. She was at least somewhat immune to the magic. It was something involving the sash. Merle, Magnus, and Taako had said that there were more things like it. That thought scared her more than anything. They seemed to be out to destroy those objects, but what if they needed help? It wouldn’t hurt to have a sentient tree on their side.

Battletree hadn’t even realized that she had been thinking all of that as one person, as one tree.

_We’re becoming one_ , she thought _But it doesn’t feel bad. I want to be you, I want to know you._

_Then you know what I want to do right now_ , she thought. _I mean. I always want to do it. But I think it’ll help take the stress off, especially now. And you said we could._

_Don’t worry. I know exactly what you’re thinking._

All of their stuff was still in the garage. Nobody had touched it. The wagon that Hurley had built wasn’t there, of course. It was probably lying in pieces out in the desert somewhere. Either that or the parts had been scavenged by racing gangs. Their original wagon was there, though. It had an open-air top, and a bench seat that would hopefully fit her trunk. Battletree popped open the hood. The core glowed a dim blue, and she slapped it.

“Still some juice kicking in there.”

She could feel her sap, her branches, her bark start to thrum. There were no distinct thoughts coming from the two halves of her. When she raced before, she had already been whole. Now she moved as one tree. She was going to ride again. She was going to race. The racing scene may have gotten used to racing without the Raven and the Ram, but now they were going to have to get used to racing Battletree.

The garage door opened all the way and golden early morning light poured in. From within, the engine of the battlewagon revved. It was a straight shot from here to the desert. With a screech of tires and a huge plume of dust and petals, the battlewagon shot out of the garage and disappeared down the road. Anyone else living in the area and, say, working on battlewagons in their own garages, would have been woken up by the sound of a battlewagon tearing down their street and a tree’s laughter.

She was back.

           

           

 


End file.
